The final adventure of my weekend trifecta was a long run around Fresh Pond in Cambridge.
I went down to the Charles River before heading through Harvard Square and then out to Fresh Pond so I could get around a 10 mile run.
It was all very straightforward and things I'd seen before - the river run, Harvard Square (kind of a pain as it's actually populated with people) but the actual pond was a TRUE delight.
A puppy delight, that is. There were dogs a plenty - small dogs, big dogs, swimming dogs, barking dogs, smiling dogs and shitting dogs. It was SO hard to concentrate but that made that part of the run just skip on by.
The added plus was that it wasn't hard concrete and there were several little trails that I could have explored if I wasn't on a schedule. Also I would have sat and watched those pups swimming in the lake at the back for hours. Dangerous.
By the time I got out of there and back up and over the only hill I hit in Harvard Square I was utterly exhausted. And my music wasn't any help. After my This American Life episode my shuffle got into a sad-sack-song rut. My god I thought I was going to fall into a slow crawl or run into traffic.
I must have been only a half mile or so from home, dragging my comatose legs behind me, when from the depths of the ipod came relief: Spoon, Back to Life. That hard beat just brought be back to something resembling life (it's not a miracle worker, after all) It was glorious. And as if wonders never ceased the next song was my favorite, though soon-to-be-overplayed (really, if one more movie or TV trailer takes it I'm moving on, though, alright, Eat Pray Love does look not-that-bad) Florence and the Machine song, Dog Days.
She actually sings: "Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father, run for your sisters and brother..." How could I not end on a high note?
But really, are all runs over 10 miles going to be this sluggish? Because I have just a teeny tiny bit more to conquer. Like 13 miles this Saturday (gulp) in two days.
Overall:
Distance: 10.20
Time: about 1:43
Overall rating: 8 (pros: puppies, end of run songs, weather / cons: every other song, heat)
xoL
Showing posts with label Puppies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Puppies. Show all posts
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Let's play pretend
This weekend brought us Arthur, whom I prefer to call Russel.
Russel is an English Setter, 6ish years old, and our charge for the weekend while friends ventured down to D.C.
Now, I should preface this by saying that I was *this* close to securing future puppydom with R. I've been making hang-dates with friends who have puppies, sending cute finds direct to R via e-mail and even starting a (ah-hem) puppy wall. best. thing. ever.
Since Russel is well into his middle age I figured this would sinch the 'Let's get a pup' campaign. Sure, he was recovering from a recent brush with death, death in the form of a small branch that he sucked right up his nose. It was an $800 accident for the puppy parents and a fact that I generally smooth over whenever it is brought up by R (but OUR dog won't inhale small trees). It was working for a while.
We were to stay at their place, which gave us further opportunity to try out home ownership. And if the dog and the home didn't work out, it was like a mini break away from our apartment. A free bed and breakfast. delight.
Friday, evening. I'm still at work until six and R is attempting to write his thesis. After carefully reading the Arthur the dog memo I realized that Russel needs be walked by 530. The vote goes out and I opt to skiddadle out of the office, back to our apt to pick up the key and then over to our pied-a-terre.
The blatter-filled pup was jonesing for a walk so we took a brisk one around the block. This kid has really got an eye twigs of all sizes. He chews, eats, knaws, claws and, yes, snorts them all in and around his snout. Dear God it was the shortest walk to an anxiety attack I've ever had.
With R still back at school Russel and I got down to the business of hanging. Only Russel isn't so big on hanging, or cuddling, or spreading any sort of nuzzle love. What he IS into is starring.
No, it's more than a stare. It's like a window into the darkest part of my soul that obviously ate his parents.
This face, and this doesn't even capture it, is clearly plotting my early, slow and torturous death.
Luckily I distracted him with treats (like a lot), long walks along the sun drenched sidewalks and maybe even a few (small) twigs.
He even made a (twin) friend.
Honestly, all was going well. R was into it, we ordered in, watched some cable. Delight.
Then Sunday morning rolled around and R and I were trying to sleep through the parade of babies pounding across the floor above us. The Arthur the dog memo said that Russel can sleep in until 9 on weekends (woo hoo!) and that if he had to go out he would whine loud and clear. End of story: it was 10, there was no whine, but there was two poops and a splatter of pee.
Unfortunately, R saw it first.
"Is this was dogs do?" he asked.
Does, not OUR dog work for that?
"It's only 10," he continued, "what, we can't sleep in with the dog? He can't wait?!"
Yeah, well there's only so much soothing our imaginary dog can do.
Russel went for his official morning walk while i cleaned up the little mess and we said good bye to our mini break pied and the hope of getting a pup any time soon.
{sign}
And thus began the 'Let's get a puppy campaign TWO.'
xoxoL
Russel is an English Setter, 6ish years old, and our charge for the weekend while friends ventured down to D.C.
Now, I should preface this by saying that I was *this* close to securing future puppydom with R. I've been making hang-dates with friends who have puppies, sending cute finds direct to R via e-mail and even starting a (ah-hem) puppy wall. best. thing. ever.
Since Russel is well into his middle age I figured this would sinch the 'Let's get a pup' campaign. Sure, he was recovering from a recent brush with death, death in the form of a small branch that he sucked right up his nose. It was an $800 accident for the puppy parents and a fact that I generally smooth over whenever it is brought up by R (but OUR dog won't inhale small trees). It was working for a while.
We were to stay at their place, which gave us further opportunity to try out home ownership. And if the dog and the home didn't work out, it was like a mini break away from our apartment. A free bed and breakfast. delight.
Friday, evening. I'm still at work until six and R is attempting to write his thesis. After carefully reading the Arthur the dog memo I realized that Russel needs be walked by 530. The vote goes out and I opt to skiddadle out of the office, back to our apt to pick up the key and then over to our pied-a-terre.
The blatter-filled pup was jonesing for a walk so we took a brisk one around the block. This kid has really got an eye twigs of all sizes. He chews, eats, knaws, claws and, yes, snorts them all in and around his snout. Dear God it was the shortest walk to an anxiety attack I've ever had.
With R still back at school Russel and I got down to the business of hanging. Only Russel isn't so big on hanging, or cuddling, or spreading any sort of nuzzle love. What he IS into is starring.
No, it's more than a stare. It's like a window into the darkest part of my soul that obviously ate his parents.
This face, and this doesn't even capture it, is clearly plotting my early, slow and torturous death.
Luckily I distracted him with treats (like a lot), long walks along the sun drenched sidewalks and maybe even a few (small) twigs.
He even made a (twin) friend.
Honestly, all was going well. R was into it, we ordered in, watched some cable. Delight.
Then Sunday morning rolled around and R and I were trying to sleep through the parade of babies pounding across the floor above us. The Arthur the dog memo said that Russel can sleep in until 9 on weekends (woo hoo!) and that if he had to go out he would whine loud and clear. End of story: it was 10, there was no whine, but there was two poops and a splatter of pee.
Unfortunately, R saw it first.
"Is this was dogs do?" he asked.
Does, not OUR dog work for that?
"It's only 10," he continued, "what, we can't sleep in with the dog? He can't wait?!"
Yeah, well there's only so much soothing our imaginary dog can do.
Russel went for his official morning walk while i cleaned up the little mess and we said good bye to our mini break pied and the hope of getting a pup any time soon.
{sign}
And thus began the 'Let's get a puppy campaign TWO.'
xoxoL
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Adventures in the South End and my kitchen
Alright, Boston, I said to know one in particular, it's time to figure you out.
What I know of this fair, historical city are the big box items: Museum of Fine Arts, Top of the Hub, Freedom trail. That's all well and good, but I'm going to need something grittier. Something I can step in and drag around with me.
So R and I headed to the South End. "It's up and coming," said one Bostonian. "A good place to start," quipped another.
So away we went...driving. Yes, ever since I started to drive to work it has been hard for me to get back on that T. We found (voila!) a parking space, filled it with all the quarters we could find in the back of the wagon (5) and hit the streets.
I'm not going to sugar coat it, I was underwhelmed. I had heard it was a good place for galleries and since it's also home to the Boston Center for the Arts I figured there would be some good contemporary creativeness oozing from the building's brick walls onto the streets.
Nothing oozed except for a ridiculously long line of 20-something kids dressed in black.
But we drifted up and down the streets anyway. And it wasn't all bad, in fact it was quite cute though sparce. Beautiful victorian town houses lined the streets peppered by modern design and clothing boutiques and dark tavern-like restaurants. I did walk past the winter skeletons of a few community gardens that made my heart flutter in yearning for warmer months.
Finally we hit upon the heart of the South End. Like the sprinkling of gingerbread pieces, our path to Union Park Street and Shawmut Ave was trickled with puppies!
And, ultimately, cupcakes
The South End Buttery was the journey-end treasure where I found, get this, cupcakes NAMED after puppies!
A true cross-section of this blogger's life-loves.
We went with the Harriot because the cupcake looked yummy and the puppy photo looked cute. It was moist, sweetly tart and carrotastic. It was a delight, just as I'm sure Harriet must be.
There was an obvious mutual affection.
Walking down Union Park Street we found a row of fantastic spaces - grand but rustic with white-painted wooden floors, overstuffed couches and giant mirrors. And, yes, of course, beautiful things to buy. My favorite was Looc Boutique for its stunning jewelry made my local designers (always a good sign). The necklaces were my faves - a mix of textures and patterns, heavy metals and soft fabrics. I want. The space appears sparse for, well, clothing, but I found it refreshing being someone incapable of making a choice. Like a well-tailored menu at a ten-table restaurant, Looc made each piece of clothing special and drool-worthy. It was expensive, but being broke, everything is.
I mean the food in the South End is definitely something to check out. Before leaving work on Friday I was given a lengthy list of caloric venues, Buttery being the only one I ended up visiting. That's all well and good and I think that unique and tasty independent restaurants are a good sign of a growing creative vitality...it's still not there, or at least not impressing me.
I need to find more. And that was only the start. next weekend...
After our South End romp and a RUDE parking ticket R & I hit the grocery store for a sexy saturday night shopping spree built around a tart that I fancied making.
Smitten Kitchen is one of my go-to food blogs and low and behold, the first post on there was the onion and cauliflower tart..I was being begged.
Now, I'm not really a tart-making kind of a girl and R's kitchen is still bachelor-sheek, but damn if those photes aren't tantalizing. And so it went...
There were a few hiccups - an overflowing pie-filling and the omission of the nutmeg - but all in all I think it turned out down-right delicious.
mmmmmmountains of caramelized cheesy goodness:
And hello lunch.
xoxoL
What I know of this fair, historical city are the big box items: Museum of Fine Arts, Top of the Hub, Freedom trail. That's all well and good, but I'm going to need something grittier. Something I can step in and drag around with me.
So R and I headed to the South End. "It's up and coming," said one Bostonian. "A good place to start," quipped another.
So away we went...driving. Yes, ever since I started to drive to work it has been hard for me to get back on that T. We found (voila!) a parking space, filled it with all the quarters we could find in the back of the wagon (5) and hit the streets.
I'm not going to sugar coat it, I was underwhelmed. I had heard it was a good place for galleries and since it's also home to the Boston Center for the Arts I figured there would be some good contemporary creativeness oozing from the building's brick walls onto the streets.
Nothing oozed except for a ridiculously long line of 20-something kids dressed in black.
But we drifted up and down the streets anyway. And it wasn't all bad, in fact it was quite cute though sparce. Beautiful victorian town houses lined the streets peppered by modern design and clothing boutiques and dark tavern-like restaurants. I did walk past the winter skeletons of a few community gardens that made my heart flutter in yearning for warmer months.
Finally we hit upon the heart of the South End. Like the sprinkling of gingerbread pieces, our path to Union Park Street and Shawmut Ave was trickled with puppies!
And, ultimately, cupcakes
The South End Buttery was the journey-end treasure where I found, get this, cupcakes NAMED after puppies!
A true cross-section of this blogger's life-loves.
We went with the Harriot because the cupcake looked yummy and the puppy photo looked cute. It was moist, sweetly tart and carrotastic. It was a delight, just as I'm sure Harriet must be.
There was an obvious mutual affection.
Walking down Union Park Street we found a row of fantastic spaces - grand but rustic with white-painted wooden floors, overstuffed couches and giant mirrors. And, yes, of course, beautiful things to buy. My favorite was Looc Boutique for its stunning jewelry made my local designers (always a good sign). The necklaces were my faves - a mix of textures and patterns, heavy metals and soft fabrics. I want. The space appears sparse for, well, clothing, but I found it refreshing being someone incapable of making a choice. Like a well-tailored menu at a ten-table restaurant, Looc made each piece of clothing special and drool-worthy. It was expensive, but being broke, everything is.
I mean the food in the South End is definitely something to check out. Before leaving work on Friday I was given a lengthy list of caloric venues, Buttery being the only one I ended up visiting. That's all well and good and I think that unique and tasty independent restaurants are a good sign of a growing creative vitality...it's still not there, or at least not impressing me.
I need to find more. And that was only the start. next weekend...
After our South End romp and a RUDE parking ticket R & I hit the grocery store for a sexy saturday night shopping spree built around a tart that I fancied making.
Smitten Kitchen is one of my go-to food blogs and low and behold, the first post on there was the onion and cauliflower tart..I was being begged.
Now, I'm not really a tart-making kind of a girl and R's kitchen is still bachelor-sheek, but damn if those photes aren't tantalizing. And so it went...
There were a few hiccups - an overflowing pie-filling and the omission of the nutmeg - but all in all I think it turned out down-right delicious.
mmmmmmountains of caramelized cheesy goodness:
And hello lunch.
xoxoL
Monday, September 21, 2009
The new (BBC) me
First day!
It went along swimmingly for those of you who are on the edge of your seats. My commute was WAY to short for the not-one-but-two papers I bought to read during the time.
I had checked and rechecked the route from my tube stop to TV station at the BBC. It didn't seem clear. I walk north and THEN cross? Low and behold you could see the MASSive buildings from the escalator that brought me safely to ground floor. I needn't worry.
How the hell do you order a coffee in London? I tried twice today and both times was received by curious looks. I thought it must be my American peeking through so I tried the order again with a faint british accent, which really just ends up being a long "Pleeeeeeeese" at the end. But still - all blank face. Then I'm inevitably forced into what I'm obviously trying to hide - "OH," says the girl "you mean an Americana." Yes, yes, fine fine. (bitch).
Today was actually not my first day. It's sort of a pre-first day. It's a computer training day that was delightfully easy. It's all just false promises though. I'm going to grow confident and casual before the big blow on Wednesday. When we went around an introduced ourselves (there were five others. I am, however, the only sucker not being paid) I said I would be working on the Specials Team. A woman dressed in head-to-toe navy asked, "what's the specials team." Good question, I thought. I suddenly found the hem of my shirt very interesting and the question was diverted to the teacher (BER-nahd) who literally gasped. "Oh," he said, "they're they piece-de-resistance (at which point I began unraveling my fallen hem)." He went on to tell Navy that 'we' put all the 'crazy' stuff on the site - interactive maps and graphics - "if you want something exciting done to our story and don't know how to do it, you send it to them."
The room spun around and starred at me, this suddenly brilliant computer wiz, and I smiled politely and gulped loudly.
BUT. That excitement will come and smack me in the face later. For now, it's still intro. And intro is, gloriously, easy. I was so PLEASED and shocked to find that I had been well-equipped to, say, write a news article (helloooo inverted pyramid), if that were my assignment. Or write a headline or a photo caption (add something, don't repeat). Then, the entire afternoon was spent on photoshop. We were given the keys to the online database of photos (fabulously endless celebrity sightings...and other things I'm sure). We were told to find certain photos and crop and set accordingly. Blah blah blah.
Then we were set free! Allowed to look up whatever we wanted. Sure, I tried to play it straight at first, Gordon Brown here, Becks and Posh there, maybe a little Eddie Izzard for my sauce, but when we were asked to put together a three-block photo set of any theme I went by my old standby - PUPPIES! Oh the database was FULL of them. you'd be surprised. My final photo looked, ohhhh, something like this:
And with this photo I was welcomed into the class anew. Navy pulled out here camera and showed me a pocket-sized puppy of 4 months in a hamper, on a bed, rolled in a towel. Once-stern progammer in the back flipped through a pug-tastic slideshow on his iphone, suddenly all smiles.
Ah, puppies. I unites us all, americanos and brits alike.
xoxoL
It went along swimmingly for those of you who are on the edge of your seats. My commute was WAY to short for the not-one-but-two papers I bought to read during the time.
I had checked and rechecked the route from my tube stop to TV station at the BBC. It didn't seem clear. I walk north and THEN cross? Low and behold you could see the MASSive buildings from the escalator that brought me safely to ground floor. I needn't worry.
How the hell do you order a coffee in London? I tried twice today and both times was received by curious looks. I thought it must be my American peeking through so I tried the order again with a faint british accent, which really just ends up being a long "Pleeeeeeeese" at the end. But still - all blank face. Then I'm inevitably forced into what I'm obviously trying to hide - "OH," says the girl "you mean an Americana." Yes, yes, fine fine. (bitch).
Today was actually not my first day. It's sort of a pre-first day. It's a computer training day that was delightfully easy. It's all just false promises though. I'm going to grow confident and casual before the big blow on Wednesday. When we went around an introduced ourselves (there were five others. I am, however, the only sucker not being paid) I said I would be working on the Specials Team. A woman dressed in head-to-toe navy asked, "what's the specials team." Good question, I thought. I suddenly found the hem of my shirt very interesting and the question was diverted to the teacher (BER-nahd) who literally gasped. "Oh," he said, "they're they piece-de-resistance (at which point I began unraveling my fallen hem)." He went on to tell Navy that 'we' put all the 'crazy' stuff on the site - interactive maps and graphics - "if you want something exciting done to our story and don't know how to do it, you send it to them."
The room spun around and starred at me, this suddenly brilliant computer wiz, and I smiled politely and gulped loudly.
BUT. That excitement will come and smack me in the face later. For now, it's still intro. And intro is, gloriously, easy. I was so PLEASED and shocked to find that I had been well-equipped to, say, write a news article (helloooo inverted pyramid), if that were my assignment. Or write a headline or a photo caption (add something, don't repeat). Then, the entire afternoon was spent on photoshop. We were given the keys to the online database of photos (fabulously endless celebrity sightings...and other things I'm sure). We were told to find certain photos and crop and set accordingly. Blah blah blah.
Then we were set free! Allowed to look up whatever we wanted. Sure, I tried to play it straight at first, Gordon Brown here, Becks and Posh there, maybe a little Eddie Izzard for my sauce, but when we were asked to put together a three-block photo set of any theme I went by my old standby - PUPPIES! Oh the database was FULL of them. you'd be surprised. My final photo looked, ohhhh, something like this:
And with this photo I was welcomed into the class anew. Navy pulled out here camera and showed me a pocket-sized puppy of 4 months in a hamper, on a bed, rolled in a towel. Once-stern progammer in the back flipped through a pug-tastic slideshow on his iphone, suddenly all smiles.
Ah, puppies. I unites us all, americanos and brits alike.
xoxoL
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